Posts Tagged ‘lost’

Winding Way

Posted: October 28, 2016 in Poetry
Tags: , , , , , ,


By David Allen

There’s a street in town
called Winding Way
that I swear was designed by fiends.
I turned onto it once to find a yard sale
and spent hours lost in a puzzling scene.
No matter the way, straight, left or right,
I passed the same playgrounds, houses and lots.
And when I turned onto a side street ,
like some horror book plot,
it dumped me back on Winding Way.

Confused and dazed, I thought
this was some awful dream.
This is what Hades must be like.
Searching to find some value in life,
I was just spinning my wheels
My whole life was a Winding Way.

But finally, like most fruitless quests,
this one did come to an end.
And I was able to wend my way out
onto a main road, where my growling gut told
me I’d best stop for some food and a drink.
I found a drive-in, but had to skip it when
I read the sign on the “Steak City” board
advertisimg burgers and something called “Phyllis.”

Was this some misspelling for a Philly Steak?
Or was it something more chilling?
Had some poor Phyllis died
On her Winding Way drive
And her body cooked up by some villain?
I didn’t dare ask, and instead just passed
What surely must be the village’s cannibal diner.




Diving in the rain 2

           By David Allen

The argument made no sense
The words were hard and harsh
So, I grabbed my keys and headed for my car.
The “I Love Yous,” were thrown
But they were not caught
As I drove from the home of despair.
The sun had set, clouds ruled the sky
And rain started at the first stop sign.
The radio was broken, so I sang to myself
As I turned onto a narrow country lane.
The windshield wipers kept time
As dark thoughts filled the air
Until I opened the window and
Skyward they were blown.
I drove for hours, turning again and again
As if to throw off the weight of despair
The car’s dashboard console went dark
Wiping out my GPS, and so it wasn’t long
Before I was good and lost.
The rain poured in the open window
Cold but somehow refreshing
I drove aimlessly on, meditating
On how things were and used to be.
The longer I drove, the more my heavy heart eased.
Refreshed, I decided to find a way back home
Just as the country lane met a major interchange
And a sign pointed me on my way.
But the closer I got, the darker the sky
And my mood again weighed heavy
I passed my street and drove on
Promising to return when the dawn breaks
To shine a light on what went wrong.


Looking for a great Christmas present? Why not give a book of poetry? My second book of poetry, “(more)’ is now available on Amazon Kindle. The paperback edition is also available. If you want a signed copy, email me at Order your copy today! I am like most poets — poor.


Here’s a review:

5.0 out of 5 stars Wanting (more), September 2, 2014
By Jenny A. Kalahar “the_story_shop” (Elwood, IN USA)
Here are wonderful, literate poems of longing, wit, wisdom and resistance; justice, injustice, the absurdities of life and of growing older. There are lines full of sensuality at every stage of our existence, and of the waste and usefulness around us. Tinged with the atmosphere of the Orient, they are as luxurious as legs that go all the way up. Mr. Allen’s years as a newspaper man stain his poems with a rougher ink that sticks to your fingers long after you’ve turned his pages. There are losses – parents, loved ones, friends – but there are poems of finding and creating. Children, grandchildren, lovers, partners in crime and art all swirl throughout this collection, humming like a secret humming song. But unlike most hummed songs, these words do matter. They do. So read them now and sing along.